The Fairytales We Never Outgrow

Once, we believed in the Tooth Fairy,
a girl in glitter with sparkly wings,
who would sneak in the dark,
to swap teeth for quarters,
as if they were treasures,
as if our childhood decay
was worth more than gold.
We believed in Santa,
too, a jolly man who rode
a sleigh through the night sky,
how he squeezed through chimneys
to leave presents and hope
on the hearth,
as if we could be good enough
to earn something like that.

And the Easter Bunny?
A giant rabbit,
hopping through the grass,
hiding candy in bushes,
as if all of us—adults too—
believed in chocolate eggs
left by a creature we never even saw.

We laugh now at those fantasies,
shake our heads,
and roll our eyes,
but here we are,
still believing in other things:
the perfect career,
that one job,
the house with the white picket fence,
as if they’ll fix us,
as if they’ll make us whole.

As if we can catch happiness
in the same way, we caught those fleeting fairytales—
believing in perfect futures written in the stars,
in promises that never fade.
We’re still waiting for magic to show up,
for some other fairy tale to unwrap.
It’s just grown-up nonsense now,
like believing that success can be bought
or that perfection is the key to happiness.

Perhaps that’s the real joke—
we still believe,
still want,
still, wait for a fairy to trade
our lost pieces for something more.